Story:Kings of Strife/Part 18
Part Eighteen Vainia awoke when she could feel Taoris setting her onto the ground. The floor beneath her was cold, hard, and dry; the air around them, misty and cold. She shivered from the early misty chill and yawned, stretching her sore arms out as a single tear welled up in her right eye. Taoris stood above her and yawned as well, although he did not stretch. As Vainia rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she looked up to her new guardian and around the two of them. She spoke to him as she stood. “Where are we? How long was I asleep?” The princess had allowed herself to fall back into slumber once her guardian had safely taken her out of the Black Pass; once the two were encompassed by the Black Darkness, even her terror and adrenaline gave way to her exhaustion and soreness from her injuries. The Crimson Death looked meaningfully into the distance. Above the two refugees, the sun was high in the sky, but the atmosphere was starting to darken, and the moon was barely visible across the clouds. “You slept for almost twelve hours,” the tall man answered. “I took us across the Mirage Desert. We’re now in between Fort Icarun and the city of Inusia.” “Wha…?” Vainia looked around at the dry, cracked wasteland around the two in every direction. The area definitely fit the climate of central Inusia. “The Mirage Desert is almost a thousand miles across. Even assuming you skirted the sides of it… How could you have run over sixty miles an hour, for twelve hours? Your body would be torn apart.” She looked Taoris over. He was wearing his red coat, and it covered up most of his body except for his armored boots. Notably, they were extremely dirty. The Crimson Death only frowned. “I didn’t go through the middle of it, no, but I was going fast. You said to get you out of there, so I did.” He glanced over at Vainia and and crossed his arms. “I stopped to take a break, but don’t underestimate me.” Vainia frowned deeply and shook her head, disturbed. “I would say I can’t believe that’s even possible, but after what I saw at that castle…” She sighed and shivered again, but not from the cold this time. “Well, all of that is behind us now. And since you’re up and walking again – what’s next?” She looked back to Taoris with a confused look. “What’s next? What do you mean?” Taoris looked her over and wrinkled his nose. “Where are we going next? That castle was the only place I could ever find any peace in, and considering your dorm was covered in blood and shrapnel… I don’t think you’d like to return anytime soon.” The muscular guardian smiled nostalgically once he mentioned the ruined state Vainia’s dorm was left in. “…You’re right.” Vainia sighed again and released her empty rapier holder from her belt. As she started to walk towards the specter of the moon in the sky, she dropped the useless sheath onto the cracked earth. “I suppose now’s as good a time as any to start my plans. I can’t go home just yet.” “Where is home for you?” Taoris looked at the princess and narrowed his eyes. “You’re not Inusian. Too tan, and too… different. Something about you is different from all the other Inusians I’ve dealt with.” Vainia chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment. No, I’m not Inusian – I come from Mortis. In fact, I am the princess of it.” “…What, are you serious?” Now Taoris was the one to laugh. “Am I supposed to be impressed? Royals bleed the same as anyone else. Trust me, I’ve seen it firsthand.” “Eugh… No, I’m not trying to impress you. It is what it is. My nation isn’t very impressive, anyway. Not anymore.” Vainia shook her head and continued walking north. After a moment of continued contemplation, Taoris followed her. Before long, Vainia continued. “That’s what I’m trying to change.” “So what was a princess of Mortis doing all the way in Zeta Academy?” “It was a pilgrimage… of sorts. The Inusians are my enemies – all of them. I left my country to see my enemy, and all I found was waste. Waste and vanity. Everything Inusian is vain, and all is wasteful; their lives, their deaths, their blessings, their curses, all vain wastes taken endlessly. They know not what it is to suffer or have wants. I will show them when I crush their nation and all of its frivolous constructs. I will not waste.” “Vanities, huh…?” Taoris looked over the short girl in front of him, who had raised her shoulders and curled her hands into tight fists as she spoke. He smiled. “You’re quite the wise one, for your age. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, considering you’re a royal.” “My blood has nothing to do with my wisdom, or any lack therof. ‘A wise man knows when he is a king and when he is a servant.’ A Mortisian man first said that, long ago. I simply know my place.” Taoris let out a great guffaw and stopped walking. “A wise man dies the same death as a fool, and both fade away to nothingness. Don’t act like you’re greater than anyone else when everyone dies the same, child.” Vainia stopped now and looked back to Taoris with a glare. “I am greater than others, because I know I can only rule if I make it so with my own hands. And so I will not waste the time I have left before I, too, fade. I will make my empire last forever.” “Your desire for eternity itself is vain, is it not?” Taoris smiled slyly. “I am fine with being vain, so long as I am not wasteful. It is in my name, after all. Perhaps it is my destiny.” “…Hmph. The wise man, the fool, and the queen are fragile, finite – and blessed. Life in endless abundance is just a curse.” Taoris closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and pushed back some of his fire-red bangs. “You never answered my question. Where are we going next?” Vainia sighed once again and crossed her arms beneath her ample chest. “I haven’t decided on an answer. I suppose I could make my way to Empiria… I could infiltrate their communications and call for a sort of group to gather with me.” “No, that won’t work,” Taoris said with a frown. He opened one eye and looked down at Vainia with a focused frown. “You want to take over Inusia and you don’t even have anyone working for you. No army, no allies, and you even ran away from your home. No, you don’t stand a chance against Inusia as you are now.” The Crimson Death’s blunt honesty did not anger Vainia, for she had been thinking the same thing. “If only I had more time at Zeta… Yes, you are correct, Taoris. So then, I should start by undermining Inusian authority in another nation… and gathering strength while I can.” She looked down at the dull ground around her with focused, ambitious eyes. “Shorica,” Taoris murmured quietly. “You can start there.” The princess of Mortis looked up to her guardian’s face with twinkling interest. “I… It could work. Shorica is just as dependent on Inusian authority as every other nation, but it’s lasted the longest with autonomous power. Now that I think about it, the last Shorican governor to be elected by its people is leaving his office soon… I could exploit that, I suppose, but his term ends very soon. How could I possibly take advantage of that in such short notice…?” “I know a man who owes me a favor or three. He owes his life to me, really. That old grouchy Shorican bastard – I can’t imagine he doesn’t still protest and run activist groups.” Taoris closed his eye and scratched the stubble on his chin. “Will that suffice, for now?” “Yes… Yes it will.” Vainia looked up to her guardian with a smile. “I’m assuming he works in Phenicks, the capital of Shorica, yes? How soon can you get there?” “Within a few hours. But I’m tired now. Let’s just walk for a little while.” Taoris yawned and started walking north again, his hands drifting to the pockets of his long red coat. Both of the holsters in the back of his thick belt were empty, as his dual blades had been abandoned in the Black Pass. Vainia walked after Taoris and shivered once again. The cool winter wind was starting to pick up in the wastelands, and the sky was slowly melting into a drab gray canvas. Rain clouds drifted towards the northwest horizon, near Shorica’s border. The nation of Shorica had always focused on trade and mercantilism throughout history, until the Inusian Empire rose to power around 600 KE – almost sixteen hundred years ago. Once the country of Inusia started to take control of the world, Shorica started to move its population and resources to creating a massive navy the world had never seen. Its constant strife with Inusia lasted for almost an entire millennia, until the Shorican forces simply stopped fighting. Ever since then, Shorica and Inusia shared an odd sort of shaky peace, unequal and unpredictable. Shorica simply watched as Inusia rose to power – and stayed there. No matter how hard she tried to draft up plans involving a takeover of Shorica, Vainia could not help but think about the mystery that was the Crimson Death, her guardian and the savior of her life and ambition. “Why did you save me?” she finally asked. The princess hastened her walking to keep stride with Taoris, whose legs rose up to the same height as her bust. “What do you mean?” Taoris avoided her gaze. “You have my heart, and my life. If you die, so do I. Only death can pay for life – so I will pay my life’s worth by bringing death to all of your enemies.” “You’re lying. I saw you fight in that castle. You didn’t seem to even flinch from your ridiculous injuries. And the way you can run so fast, for hours…” She hesitated and wrinkled her brows. “You’re not immortal, are you? Such a thing… isn’t possible.” Taoris waited a long time before answering, and he did not look down at the princess at all as he walked. His eyes continued to scan the flat landscape in front of them both, and his hands continued to rest in his deep pockets. He appeared silently troubled, with narrowed eyes and veins appearing on his long forehead. When he finally spoke, his lips remained tight and his voice uncharacteristically low. “I don’t know. The one thing I’ve never done is attempt to kill myself, and no man has ever defeated me – so I don’t know if I can die. I do know that my body feels no pain, and that it heals extraordinarily fast. I cannot be defeated.” “So there is no reason for you to fear death. It might not even exist for you. Why, then, did you agree to the contract of my terms? Why fight for me or listen to me at all if my threats are completely empty? And why help with my plans?” This time Taoris’ troubled state magnified, but he was able to answer quickly and surely. “…It was your eyes. Your face. In you I see almost as much hatred as I have inside. You said yourself that you wish to destroy Inusia and all of its people.” Despite his grim state – or perhaps because of it – Taoris smiled and laughed deeply. “I am a ruthless sinner who only wishes to see his kind prosper.” Vainia curled up her mouth and looked up at Taoris with nausea. “I am nothing like you,” she spat. “Now you’re the one lying. You are me. We are the same; I will have eternal life, and you will have an eternal kingdom, if we work together. Truly, what is the difference?” “…I must admit, you are much more wise than I ever expected a murderous savage to be. Wise, brave – and senseless.” “My senses were the first things I lost. Do not assume I have been cursed my entire life, though. To shed blood is simply the last pleasure left for me on this wasteland of a planet.” “Incorrect,” Vainia said after some consideration. “You have found a new pleasure – serving me, and following my ambitions. If not, why else would you pursue them? Why else cooperate with me? I don’t understand any other answer.” “I have been through decades of hell,” Taoris said with a growl. “I’m afraid I no longer know what exactly is a pleasure and what is suffering.” “Then we shall see.” Vainia nodded her head and started to walk ahead of Taoris, her arms still crossed and her chin raised against the horizon. “I just found it hard to believe that you would sacrifice all of yourself for my cause, even if it is to nurture hatred amongst this world. You do understand the extent of your contract with me, right? You must kill every enemy I command you to. You must never leave my side. My will must be enforced, even at the extent of your own. And you are content with that?” “I have never made a choice in my life that I have not regretted – until now. My swords are yours, Vainia Sestrum.” “I don’t want your swords, or your life. You can have it back.” Vainia snapped her fingers, and the Crimson Death faltered for a moment as he felt an odd weight be lifted in his chest. “I only want the world.” The Crimson Death smiled darkly and chuckled. “That is fine with me, Vainia.” “…I lied again. One other thing – I want to hear you call me your queen. I want to hear it forever.” “As you wish, my queen.” “And so it will be.” As she walked to Shorica, Vainia raised her arms out to her sides, and all the wastelands of Inusia spread out ahead of her. “Let your queen give you the highest thanks for your faithfulness… Let this moment be the beginning of our history. Let this be the birth of Queen Vainia… No. I am more than just a queen, now. I am the empire.” ***** “Someone requests audience, sir.” A slim, young man spoke with trepidation to his superior, both men enclosed in a dark room in the midst of the night. Outside, the wistful patter of rain tapped against the walls of the small building with quick and light strokes, as if afraid to use its full strength against the shoddily built structure and cause its demise. Regardless of the dreary weather’s hesitation, the building shook with the wind anyway. No light shone into the darkness outside. “Are they now? At this time of night?” The superior in the room sat at a wide desk that was overflowing with various papers and documents, their contents strewn about and marked by various colors of ink. Beneath them, almost invisible due to the clutter, were several large maps, all diagrammed and drawn on by diverse ink. One such pen twirled in the long and wrinkled fingers of the superior man, who sat with his other hand supporting his head. His drooping expression shrunk a little and he held tightly onto his pen in thought. “Very well then, Charles. Let them in.” “Yes, sir.” With a quiet reply, the tall young man at the door opened it and moved out of its opening’s way. The slight sounds of the rain, still obscured by the walls of the surrounding building but now liberated slightly, wafted into the room on lazy air. As if appearing in the dark hallway outside of the room, two figures in dark raincoats – one short and the other absurdly tall – walked in and took stance right in the middle of the small floor. The door closed quietly behind them. Naturally and rehearsed, the shorter one took vanguard in front of their companion and, even beneath the dark hooded and rain-slick cloak, obviously had a steep posture and pride. The rear guard, much taller and wider than their counterpart, had less of a prideful air but more of an intimidating one, much of it gained through their oppressive height. None of their physical features could be discerned from beneath the shadows of their outerwear. Already of a contemplative nature, the superior officer shivered and found himself much heavier in thought. Not only had the door’s opening for a slight second brought in a waft of cold air, the sight of these two visitors had completely taken him aback and robbed him of all prior thought. He had summoned no one, made no plans, or anything else of the sort for this night, so the identity or intent of these two were a complete mystery to him. It did not help his nerves that the man prided himself and his organization on their solitude and secrecy – it was supposed to be impossible for normal citizens to find them. ‘Such is the nature of rebellion,’ he thought with a deep frown. A long moment of still silence passed before the officer glanced at his young aide, who had been looking to him for advice, and began to finger a curl in his short and gray hair. “Well,” the superior finally sighed, “how can I help you? Scratch that - who are you two?” “We are close friends who only seek to help you.” The reply came quickly and was dripping with calm confidence. The superior had nothing to say to this, and his face only contorted without comprehension. “Are you making fun of me?” The superior’s gray eyebrows knit together with another question, though he kept this one to himself. ‘Why does that voice sound so familiar?’ A dark chuckle freed itself from the confines of the taller one’s hood. “You’ve grown old while I was away, Santus.” With the mention of his name, suddenly the officer knew exactly who the speaker was – but he could not believe it. In his astonishment, he dropped his pen and stood up. Charles looked at his superior, confused. “It can’t be… Taoris? Is that you? After all these years?” The superior stood, his jaw slacked and his hands trembling. In response to the mention of his name, Gin Taoris – the taller one of the two, by far – removed his hood and shook his head, letting his back-length red hair cascade down his now-freed neck. A large and energetic hand of his pushed at his forehead, tossing back any stray hair from his face. A spry smile danced in his eyes, but his real smile held only a fraction of such amusement. Officer Santus laughed nervously. “Why, Taoris, you haven’t changed one bit, except your hair’s gotten a hell of a lot longer. It’s been, what, fifteen years? Sixteen?” A nostalgic smile pulled at his own lips, but he did not move from his spot behind his desk, nor did he let his eyes stray for very long from Taoris’ still-hooded companion. “I’ve lost count.” Santus crossed his arms and tightened his jaw. “You swore you’d never return here, but somehow I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away forever. Who is this friend of yours, though...?” “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I want to relive the past. I wouldn’t have come back here if I didn’t have to, Santus, but things have changed.” Almost immediately, Santus’ expression shifted from nostalgia to fear. He began to stammer and looked away from the tall redhead, instead searching his desk for his fallen pen. “You haven’t come about the investigation, have you? I told you before, we never found any leads. No one knows what happened back then, no one, and -” “Santus.” Taoris spoke with such a harsh and rough tone, one that was so covered in raw aggression and feeling, that the superior was forced to stop talking and look at him with large, sleep-deprived eyes. His face flashed with pain and sympathy, but Taoris’ was an unmoving aegis of frustration. “I said this isn’t about the past. Let this be the last time I ask you never to speak about that again.” The silent figure, still hooded, looked back to Taoris, but the massive redhead did not reciprocate the look and soon the hooded figure turned back around. “No, I come bearing good news – assistance for your organization.” Santus stood where he was, fingers absently twirling despite the missing pen embedded within them, obviously hesitating to respond. “I… I’m not sure what you mean by that, Taoris.” Taoris’ face began to flash with aggression before he visibly toned himself down, obviously perturbed but restrained. “Time has dulled you, I see. Have you forgotten how I feel about repeating myself?” He sighed and crossed his arms. “I may have changed, but I would still not betray you. Not like Efrain.” He uttered the name of the person with unmistakable hatred and disdain. Santus visibly relaxed, but still looked off to the side and refused to make contact with Taoris, perhaps strengthened by the mention of the past comrade. “Even so, this isn’t about me. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Santus looked at the two now and was surprised to see the figure in front of Gin begin to remove their hood. Before the hood fell, he noticed that the person’s hands were much smaller and thinner than Taoris’. ‘A woman?!’ When the hood fell and the figure shook their head much like Taoris had done, Santus’ suspicion was confirmed. The short woman, whose teal green eyes shone through the dark room like two ethereal lanterns in a misty forest, had been standing there and studying Santus quite heavily and seriously, for now she looked at him with a stare that seemed to know everything about him despite the two being complete strangers. What was remarkable about the girl, besides her long and straight brown hair that she pushed off to the side of her angular face, was the fact that she managed to look down at the officer even though she was about seven inches shorter than him. “Taoris, I…” Santus looked at the girl with a perturbed glance and tried to learn more about her from her stare. He was not very successful. “…You’ve brought me a schoolgirl? Who is this, your lover? What am I supposed to do with her?” This time the girl spoke in lieu of Taoris. Her voice was not particularly energetic, but it was strong and loud, subtly powerful enough to command Santus’ attention but not fierce enough to insult him. “I am not a child, sir. I am here to change this world, and my guardian here tells me that your group is one of the premier groups working to do so.” Santus looked at the woman with equal parts confusion and doubt. “What is this, Taoris?” He glanced up to the redhead, who was completely serious. “You bring your adopted daughter here or something and fill her head with lies?” “I know the truth of your organization, Officer Santus of Fifth Brine.” The gray-haired superior paused and looked back down to the girl with wide eyes. She continued to speak emotionlessly. “You are the leader of Shorica’s premier underground resistance to the encroaching rule of Inusia, and your group is mere days away from implementing its biggest movement yet: the public rejection of the next Inusia-chosen governor, who will take the seat of the final elected official of Shorica’s government.” “…Whoa,” breathed Charlie, the secretary and intern of Santus. The superior grit his teeth and mentally made a note to himself to slap his young guard on the back of his head after this. “This one is spirited,” Santus muttered. “Never thought you were one to let others boss you around, Taoris.” “There is only slavery in serving the unwise and one’s unequal,” Taoris growled. “You’ll find that this child proves quite worthy.” The superior sighed and crossed his arms. “Alright, kid, so you know what’s really going on in the world. You wanna fight for Shorica that badly?” “Your rebellion is not enough. There will be no results without pure revolution; the time for angry discourse has passed. I can show you how to fight, and how to win.” He looked Vainia over again, his jaw deeply set in reluctance. “You don’t look Shorican. What is this fight to you?” The girl blinked twice and sighed. “My only objective is to destroy Inusia. It is this justice that gives me breath.” Now the officer smiled. “I can’t say anything to a will like that, I suppose. If Taoris trusts you, I suppose I do, too. Come.” As the two moved closer to his desk, Santus sat down and began to move the clutter apart so he could have somewhat of a clear spot on the mahogany surface. The trio began to discuss their plans, the rain continued unabated, and the gray-haired officer began to let out his sad, melancholy smile a bit more from the moment he saw the determined yet diminutive girl in his office. 'Times really do change….' ***** Silverius awoke, broken and surrounded by black feathers in the empty abyss of the Black Pass. The sun lit the balcony room with ruthless rays, illuminating the neglected room and proving instantly to the mercenary that he was alone. Besides himself, scattered debris, a discarded dark green cloak, and stained blood on the floor, there was only a shattered sword sheath on the ground, and silence. Silverius stood, dazed and without a clue as to what had happened to him. ‘The last thing I remember,’ he reasoned, ‘is Cidolas.’ Cidolas. The mercenary looked around, confused, before standing unsteadily. ‘Where is she?’ He was shirtless and warm in the rays of the sun, and scraps of his shirt – along with the mysterious black feathers that he could not explain – lay scattered about around him. ‘I saw her die… right?’ Somehow, Silverius was still alive. Taoris and the girl he had kidnapped were gone, as was Cidolas’ body. Without memory of any of his own actions, the mercenary could only assume that the fiend and his hostage had been driven off by Cidolas, who had fought with supernatural strength. ‘I’ve seen her - or rather him? - rise from the dead before. I killed Cidolas before. Maybe that very rebirth is what saved me…’ No matter what happened, Cidolas was gone, and Silverius was still alive. He was alone in this skeleton of a castle; alone and alive. ‘And I never found Maria.’ The man could not help but find a resounding form of sorrow and emptiness within himself as he draped the dirty green cloak around his shoulders and stumbled down the stairs of the castle. His body ached and creaked as if he had been asleep for days, and though dried blood stained his pants in abundance, there was not a single wound on him at all. ‘I live, and Maria is yet stolen.’ Where to go now? This abyssal castle had been Silverius’ last hope for answers and the woman he loved, and it had only been populated by failure. He lost Taoris, Cidolas, Maria, and even himself. ‘I truly have nothing left.’ Only now, walking through the eerie stillness of the abandoned Black Pass, did Silverius realize that he no longer had any allegiances. The Inusian military was likely still searching for him; he had murdered his only friends, and the mercenary organization he worked under for years wanted his head; there wasn’t a government on the planet that wouldn’t turn him in to Inusia for a reward. All of his ties were cut; finally, he had achieved freedom. To a prideful man like Silverius, independence and true freedom were the two virtues he desired most in life, and had he achieved this state at any other time in his life before, he would have grasped it without hesitation. Now, though, Silverius was unsatisfied. If anything, as he walked through the dark and dismal halls of the Black Fortress, Silverius felt as if he were going to mad with impatience, frustration, and hatred. ‘I will never be free,’ he finally realized, ‘not without her.’ Like a knee-jerk reaction to this thought, Silverius immediately started to cry from his left eye. He did not bother to wipe the few tears off his cheek, and in the heat of the day inside the dark castle, the salty fluid shortly evaporated and left nothing more than an opaque trail on his olive skin. His eyes were narrowed and unfocused; his arms were covered by the discarded green cloak he had grabbed as he left; his heart was open and yearning for closure. Silverius was not aimless. As he walked down the faded yet regal stairs of the castle onto the ground floor, he heard the sapphire Crystal he had stolen weeks ago make noise within the small bag on his waist, and he remembered Vik. ‘He must be dead,’ Silverius assumed. No one had ever managed to circumnavigate the Mirage Desert, and telling him to find a single Crystal hidden there was… well, it was like trying to find a gemstone in a massive desert. Not to mention the fact that the Serpent Society would likely tail him, and so far the Nneonian man didn’t prove to be very powerful… Silverius emerged in the outside world once again, and grimaced at the sunlight. ‘I’ve been in the dark for too long…’ What else was there for him? As he wandered northward, away from the Black Pass and out of the thick, everlasting mist, Silverius thought long and hard but could not find an answer. Beneath him the ground was cracked and barely visible; despite the brightness of the day, no amount of sunlight could pierce through the heavy miasma of the Pass. Though the possibilities for his future remained almost endless, Silverius felt shackled and trapped within both the mist and the role that lay in front of him. ‘It is a path I chose for myself.’ He was not free; he could spend the rest of his life searching for Maria, that last specter of a happy life of love and freedom, or he could rescue Vik, the man that represented his ties to destiny, the concept Silverius hated, had spent his life defying, and in the process had only proven true. ‘No matter which I chose, I will end up alone in the end.’ He wandered for an hour, seeking silence and trying not to think during it. Various times he found himself walking right into a wall of solid rock from the narrow valley bordering the Pass. After an hour or so of such wandering, Silverius finally arrived on the cracked wastelands outside of the mist, and the day blinded him for but a moment. When he regained his vision through squinting eyes, Silverius saw that, once again, fate had laid out his path for him; his choice was only which road he would take towards a set outcome. Awaiting him was a single motorcycle and a sheathed longsword tied to the handlebars by a thin string of green cloth. Smiling for the first time in days, the mercenary unwrapped the sword and tied it around his waist as he sat down and brought the vehicle to life. It purred satisfyingly beneath him, and as he started to ride the motorcycle away from the Pass, Silverius decided on a future of wandering and alienation. He drove off to the west, tall and ancient mountains creating a close horizon at his side. The motion of the motorcycle on the uneven ground kept his pouch moving constantly, and even though the motorcycle’s engine roared in front of him, Silverius could still somehow hear the slight jingling of the sapphire Crystal behind him. The Hero of Wind frowned and stopped his motorcycle. Looking north, towards the desert, his face darkened and let out a sigh. As he drove off in this new direction, the sun began to shine on him with merciless, cleansing radiance. ...End of Part Eighteen. <- Previous Page | Main Page | Next Page ->